Orange

food throughout the day and clementines for dinner. I should have gone to the grocery store today. I went up to work (1/3 jobs I work) instead. I enjoyed the day with my employer. One disappointment: the omitted, when mounted, did not have enough omitted for the omitted to bypass the omitted (which sucked). But we got a lot of work done omitting down the omitted in the omitted. I hope there are more of those days ahead.

I’m thinking about going to the grocery store but am at a complete loss as to what I would buy there. Several heads of cauliflower for easy dinners, crackers for binge omitting off- work (3/3 jobs) hours, a giant slab of steak that I’d feel guilty about buying because it’s not one I’d be buying from the Farmers Market that’s been out of reach since the move to this hood, what else–have been generally clueless as to what I’d like to eat since I moved to this apartment.

Earlier today, I decided I love this apartment. My sister was right with her You found a unicorn. It’s been perfect for the past 2.5 months that I’ve lived here, and having a separate bedroom means that I sleep enough / have a place to sleep without electronics in the room. I doubt that’s the first thing that belongs on the list of pros: Not having to share space with any of the psychotic roommates I once shared space with, access to transportation, being able to make (and clean up) whatever messes I want when I want, being in a neighborhood that won’t be gentrified for a little while longer than the previous one, having a neighborhood filled with this city’s others, having the best (and cheapest) wash & fold down the street (never having to waste time doing laundry), having south facers and bright light when I need it most, being able to have plants deep in the living room because of the south facers, having landlords who didn’t require more than the standard proofs of income and references and who aren’t in my shit or not dealing with the shit they need to deal with, just having space to myself.

In writing all of that, I feel guilty about having space to myself, but I did give the sharing economy OR WHATEVER a chance for a year. I really tried to be a good roommate 4 times(/apartment) or 6 times(/actual roommates). At some point, there was no point in–enough. The only reason why I got carried away over the last few sentences is because my old superintendent called me to tell me I had a package waiting at the old apartment. I think it may be a book, but I worry it may be a box of shit from Omitted (I didn’t tell Omitted about having found a place and I didn’t fwd my new address). For whatever reason, the old superintendent sounded pissed off about the package–I imagine it’s in the stairwell and neither one of my former roommates bothered to let me know about it. What I learned from sharing space with other people (which may read hyper-Christian to anyone who’s sensitive, but it’s not really meant that way because I’m thinking more along the lines of Musil’s obsessive repetition of it in the fat double volume; or my only advice to others for the new year):